Rise of the Valkrethi Read online

  None of the others had any answers to his questions. It was only later, as he was discussing the matter with Cordez on the sub-space link, that he began to understand what was going on.

  “They’ve got their backs to the wall,” said Cordez bluntly. “Whatever they use to make those extravagant Fire Ships go, and cloak them in the stuff of suns, they’re running out of it.”

  He paused for a moment and looked away. When he came back to Finch over the sub-space monitor he was holding a list of items, and he looked almost cheerful.

  “Aqua Regis is the fifth confirmed Invardii mining site,” he said.

  “That means we’re hurting them. Hard to believe isn’t it, but I think we’re fighting them to a standstill. They must be getting desperate, forced to scratch away at the surfaces of planets for the resources they need.”

  A broad smile slowly formed across his features.

  “We, on the other hand, have two things going for us.”

  Finch raised his eyebrows.

  “On the one hand, we aren’t wasteful, we don’t do things for a grand show, we do them for effectiveness. And on the other hand, the Mersa system just got its third Orscantium accelerator up and running this week.”

  Finch could understand why Cordez was so happy. The Mersa on Alamos had asked what they could do for the alliance, and Cordez had asked if he could mine their outer planets for the resources the Solar System was so short of.

  Once that was underway, they had asked what more they could do. Cordez had given them the technology to build nuclear accelerators, so they could produce Orscantium for Earth. The strange, space-altering properties of the super-heavy element were the only way star drive was possible.

  Cordez had stored as much of the stuff as he could, once he understood the unstoppable threat the Invardii posed to Earth. Now his carefully prepared stockpiles were getting depleted. Now that the nuclear accelerators were up and running, those losses would slow, and eventually reverse. If this was going to be a war of attrition, Earth was not going to lose it.

  “What do you know about the American Civil War, Finch?” asked Cordez jovially.

  “Ah, NorthAm block, wasn’t it? Ancient history, not really my field.”

  “The northern states won the civil war, and do you know why?”

  “More men in the field? Better weapons?” hazarded Finch.

  “No. The north had more canning factories.”

  Understanding dawned on Finch’s face. Cordez was saying Earth had better canning factories – they could produce as much Orscantium as they needed and send it anywhere to drive star ships.

  As a planet-based people they’d become very good at using nuclear accelerators to create the elusive super-heavy element, because they’d had to. The Invardii might be more advanced in just about everything else, but it appeared their power source was running out, and the nuclear accelerators were Earth’s trump card.

  “You think there’s real hope for the alliance, don’t you,” said Finch, smiling broadly.

  “Did you ever doubt it?” said Cordez, and ended the sub-space transmission.

  Finch had a few things to tidy up after he’d read the report by the Shellport squad on the incident at the Barrens. The Shellport committee had put in a request with their report. The squad leader from the report had severe damage to his right arm, and another had a severely burned shoulder.

  Their medical woman had packed the wounds with a native antibiotic – lacemoss they called it – but she said it was not going to heal properly, and they would be crippled for the rest of their lives. They were asking if there was anything Prometheus could do.

  Finch thought for a moment. The original medical team sent to Aqua Regis was now back on Earth, and Earth had its own problems. The attack by the Invardii armada had decimated their defence forces, and killed or injured a much greater number of civilians. Healing facilities were stretched to their limits, regrowing limbs and trying to get cultured organs to take in the wounded.

  The demand was stretching Earth’s medical resources as it was. The brains and nervous systems of the worst affected were in an induced stasis for months while their bodies regenerated, until they could be woken again.

  “The Shellport squad put themselves on the line for us,” said George gently, when he put the question of help for the wounded men to him.

  “Of course, but it’s not that,” said Finch, thinking of the amount of Orscantium a ship would use to get to Aqua Regis, and the time the medical team would be out of action on Earth. He turned to George.

  “Contact them for me, will you?” he said. “Tell them we can set up a unit at Shellport, but we’ll have to train them to run it while the wounds regenerate. We just can’t spare the medical people at the moment.”

  “Will do,” said Saint George. “They seemed to handle our medical technology during the civil war with the Descendents of the Prophet okay. I think they’ll be able to make whatever we send work too.

  “By the way, that little rod of Matsu’s worked a treat. Apparently the Shellport squad were about to be annihilated by two of the Invardii in their active state when they turned it on. It dropped them back into their cylinder states in an instant.”

  Finch smiled. “The Invardii hybridisation techniques are enormously sophisticated, but we’re getting a handle on it. Meeaniro has been a great help to Matsu with this stuff.”

  George nodded, then added a question. “What did Cordez say to do about the Invardii base in the Barrens?”

  “Nothing for the moment,” replied Finch. “When we destroy that base the Invardii will be all over Aqua Regis within days, and Cordez wants to be ready for them.”

  George thought about this for a moment. Then he nodded his approval. A trap. That was just like Cordez.

  CHAPTER 6

  ________________

  Celia looked down at the hot, dry world of Ba’H’Roth from the diamond film observation window in the freighter. The Rothii had always preferred these worlds, close to suns, and she wondered idly how they’d managed with so little water. There were aquifers on the planet, deep down, but how had they got by until their civilisation was advanced enough to access that water? The answer remained a mystery. Still, an alien race was going to have alien ways.

  Sallyanne finished downloading something from the ship’s computer at a nearby console, and hurried off the bridge toward the cargo bay.

  Finch had wanted to make this trip with the research team, but like the previous visit to the planet he had been bound to Prometheus by the urgency of his work.

  Both the Mars and Asteroid Belt bases were again in full production, and destroyer class Javelins were taking shape in the giant zerogee factories at ever increasing rates. The Invardii had been stopped at Earth, just, and the front line was now back at the captured Sumerian home world of Uruk.

  Their forces now numbered less than 400 of the giant Reaper ships, though they also had twenty even bigger flagships that had arrived from the galactic core. There was also activity in a dozen binary systems and red giants – almost certainly Invardii shipyards – and Earth couldn’t afford to waste time while the enemy rebuilt their fleet.

  The extraordinary battle for Earth, in which Cordez had fought the alien armada to a standstill, had only bought them so much time.

  Prometheus was now solidly committed to any research that might give the alliance a technological edge, and that was why Celia and her team were back here, preparing to enter the central database of the Rothii archives again. The database lay directly under the freighter as it orbited Ba’H’Roth, deep within the Midian Plateau.

  “Everything we need is in the cargo bay,” said Andre, stepping onto the bridge of the freighter, “and the others are all there too. We’re ready when you are.”

  “The freighter’s in geosynchronous orbit,” reported their pilot. “Go digging for diamonds in the database!”

  Celia smiled. Geelong’s sense of humour and enjoyment of his work made him a favourit
e among Cordez’ personal stable of pilots, but he also had an attention to detail that made him invaluable. A wide grin creased his dark, aboriginal face. Next to Geelong, thought Celia, she must have the darkest skin on the ship, inherited from her Mediterranean background.

  Then again, Sallyanne had a mix of Spanish and native blood from somewhere in the South Am block. Andre had a similar Mediterranean background to herself, while Jeneen showed a little buttercup colour from an unknown Asian ancestry. Only Roberto could be taken as white-skinned. Strange circumstances had led his Nordic parents to resettle in Africa, late in the last century, despite suffering continuously from the African sun.

  “On my way,” Celia said, giving Geelong a mock salute and leaving him and his navs and comms officers in charge of the bridge. Down in the cargo bay the others were waiting patiently.

  Celia addressed them quietly. “When we enter the database we can expect the same procedures as last time. The sentinel program should have recognised our ship as we entered orbit, and will be expecting us to ask for access from the cargo bay.”

  The others nodded, they had all been part of the previous expedition.

  Celia hesitated, then spoke firmly into the emptiness of the cargo bay. “Celia D’Ahlio, commanding officer of Earth research team, requesting access to Rothii archives.”

  There was a small popping sound, and a faint indication of static from somewhere behind her. She turned around.

  “Access to Rothii archives granted,” said the voice she knew so well; an odd, breathy voice that was almost a rasping sound.

  However, things were different this time round. This time they did not find themselves in a grey, transitional mist, followed by the imposing vault of the archives above them. That place was carved out of rock deep under the surface. Instead, vague and insubstantial shapes came out of the walls of the cargo bay from all directions, and passed as mysteriously into opposite walls.

  Celia dodged sideways as one passed near her. The figures began to solidify, and the research team recognised the Rothii forms Roberto had reconstructed from his earlier research in the archive. “Potatoes on stilts,” might not have been the most flattering of phrases, but that was what they were seeing now.

  The cargo bay darkened, and buildings formed where the walls used to be. A centre of population formed around them, similar to the abandoned Rothii towns on the planet below. The cargo bay brightened, and a fierce sun beat down from the horizon.

  Celia guessed it was early morning in the simulation. The walls of the buildings were already shimmering in the heat, yet she felt cool and comfortable. Got to remind myself this is just an illusion, she muttered.

  The Rothii as a group were quite imposing. The tall shapes strode by as fast as the best of the research team could run, the long legs taking enormous strides. She wondered if she would ever get used to the sudden changes when the Rothii dropped down to interact with each other, or work a data outlet. Sitting on their feet more than halved their height.

  “I knew the archive came to us!” said Andre triumphantly. Whether they had been sent to the archive through the rock of the Plateau, or the archive had created a version of itself in the cargo bay, had always been a contentious issue.

  “Yes, it seems so,” said Celia thoughtfully.

  The Rothii figures started walking around the research team, instead of through them, which was a great deal less alarming, and Celia assumed the archive was directing this scenario from the database far below. It seemed to be re-creating times when the Rothii still lived on the surface of the planet.

  “However,” she continued, “we need to find a way to connect to the archive’s data base if we’re going to ask it the questions we have in mind.”

  Roberto took out a processor from his case, and scanned a pattern of odd bumps along the top of the building next to them.

  “It’s a language,” he said, as the results showed up on the screen.

  “The translation codes must have come through with the last download from the archive. Hard to believe it says anything. It looks more like gravel rash. Apparently it says ‘entry point for primary data base’.”

  He paused and pointed at a central arch on the building. “I think we’re supposed to go in there.”

  The pattern of bumps overhead did look a lot like a bad attempt to communicate in Braille, Celia had to admit. If Roberto was right they needed to enter through the archway in the middle of the wall, but how would they open the metallic-looking door at the back of the recess?

  “Just bowl on in,” said Andre, reading her thoughts. “We’re guests of the sentinel program. It will have prepared everything for us.”

  Indeed, the door opened outwards from the centre as she approached it. The shiny material rolled up and pressed hard against the sides of the arch as she walked through. How did it do that?

  Inside was a simple, square room, much smaller than the dimensions of the building on the outside. “Made for us, I see,” said Celia. The low level of the consoles built into the walls, at a comfortable Human height, confirmed it.

  Once they’d set up their recording equipment, and made contact with the database, they began to delve into their individual topics of interest. Some things about the sentinel program were very different this time round, and that was obvious from the very start.

  “Hey, it’s not blocking off areas of inquiry,” said Sallyanne after a few minutes.

  “Godsdammit, it’s answering everything!” said Andre, who had been frustrated time and again when his research into old centres of civilisation across the galaxy had been blocked. They had all, in the past, found the archive to have an agenda of its own, and only parts of the database had been available to them.

  “It’s because we passed those tests at Maka’H’Rosh!” exclaimed Jeneen. “The archive thinks we are, um, worthy, I guess, of all the assistance it can give us.”

  “You have been chosen to succeed the Rothii,” intoned the raspy voice of the sentinel program. Celia remembered what the archive at Maka’H’Rosh had said when they completed the tasks it set them.

  “You have exceeded Rothii expectations,” it had said, in the same dry, breathy voice.

  Somehow, most likely by sub-space communication, the other archives had been told to give them every assistance. The faces of the research team lit up, and they looked at each other with a renewed hope. This was going to change everything.

  Celia urged them on, and they didn’t need to be told twice.

  There was a happy silence as the research team surged through the archive memory banks, sieving out the answers they wanted. They were building up pictures of what had happened in the ancient past, what now was in far locations, and why things had developed across the galaxy the way they had.

  The hours flew by, and it was well past the midday break when Celia finally called off her team. Jeneen shook her head, and Sallyanne protested it was much too early. It had seemed to them all that they had sat down at the consoles only minutes before.

  All the same, Celia made them take a proper break.

  They grumbled, but could see the need to keep their minds fresh. As always, time for a break was also time to share what they had discovered. There was much new data, but few conclusions, until Andre stopped them all in their tracks.

  “What would a race develop into if they lived in deep space all the time?” he asked innocently.

  “Depends if they had artificial gravity,” said Roberto.

  “Assume they didn’t, or chose not to use it,” came the reply.

  “Giantism would set in,” said Sallyanne, remembering her species studies of Earth creatures.

  “Over time forms get bigger – the original horse was the size of a small dog – and the absence of gravity would only accelerate the process. And without muscles working continuously against bones because of gravity, they wouldn’t need to be so compact.”

  Andre smiled, and Sallyanne knew she was getting close to something Andre had discovere
d.

  “You may assume an intelligent civilisation with the technology to hybridise at will, and no ethical compunction not to.”

  “You’re talking about the Druanii!” said Roberto triumphantly.

  “Maybe,” said Andre, “just want to see what you lot can come up with first.”

  “Show us, show us!” clamoured several voices.

  “Oh, all right,” said Andre, making a show of surrendering to their wishes. “Let me set up the 3D file I’ve recorded.”

  He tapped in a few commands, then pushed the processor out in front of them. A long, sinuous form came to life in the air before them. It turned a blunt snout toward Andre, and they saw row upon row of dangerous-looking plates behind sharp eyes.

  “It’s . . . it’s a dragon,” said Sallyanne, not sure what to think.

  “Maybe, but it doesn’t have any legs,” said Andre. “No arms, no tentacles, no opposable thumbs, no opposable anything. It can’t hold a tool, so how does it build machinery, and how does it activate its technology?”

  They were silent for a moment.

  “It looks like ‘The Great Wurm of Hampstead Heath’, said Andre jovially, and ducked as Jeneen went to clip him across the back of the head.

  “Ignore him,” she said, “he takes his historical adventure stories too seriously.”

  “M’Lady doth her noble knight dishonour,” said Andre reproachfully, and she slid behind him and put her arms around his neck. Sallyanne looked at Celia, who shook her head ever so slightly. There was a message there – when was she going to do something about her own loneliness?

  Sallyanne had been missing a level of closeness like that for some time. Celia had her research team, her surrogate family, but Sallyanne operated on a solo, freelance basis. As the two women had become closer, Sallyanne had complained about the lack of someone special in her life.

  All Celia had been able to say was, well it’s up to you. Sallyanne made a mental note to make more time to find someone, perhaps when the freighter got back to Prometheus.